Myth of the Moon Goddess - The Aradia Chronicles, Books One, Two and Three

by Rane, April

  “No one ever fails in life because of another,” said Czarinaea. “At least that’s what Natila tells us, and she is the wisest woman in our clan.”

  “Czarinaea, what will you do if mother does not let you go to the temple?”

  “Ah, sweet sister, you truly love me, but then it is your nature to love. Somehow I think I need to learn what my little sister already knows.”

  Reaching the ring at the hippo-dome, they watched in awe as their mother Antilene took flight, her long dark hair flying in the wind. Boldly, she stood atop two horses running side by side. Becoming part of the wild beasts, with one foot firmly planted on each of the horse’s backs, she circled the arena. Then, in a lightning move, Antilene went to her knees and quickly mounted one horse. Circling around the arena once more, she came to a hair-raising stop in front of the girls, her mount pawing the air.

  “I am ready,” Antilene said, not the least bit out of breath from her effort. “Show me what you have learned girls.”

  Czarinaea eagerly mounted and rode out to the appointed distance, before beginning her gallop toward Myrina, veering away at the very last minute because her sister had turned to the left, a common mistake that could have led to disaster. Antilene praised Czarinaea and chastised Myrina.

  “I want you to do the pick-up with me,” Antilene shouted, motioning to Czarinaea.

  “You are too heavy!” her daughter protested, concerned that her mother would pull her from her animal on purpose, something she had seen her do many times to other girls because she felt they were not ready. “I will not be able to lift you!”

  Her mother sat waiting, not going to any lengths to hide her impatience.

  Tossing her head of jet black curls, Czarinaea turned up her strong chin and rode off to the appointed distance. Then, racing toward her mother in a hard gallop and reaching out one arm, she tightened her legs on her mount, and leaned to the left, at which time her mother smoothly landed behind Czarinaea and hugged her with affection.

  “So,” said her mother. “You are ready! It is not strength as I have told you before. It is skill.”

  It was an exciting moment for Czarinaea, and as she began to walk away from the arena she look forward to her sister joining her at the bathing pool where they usually met for their mid-day meal. Czarinaea was hoping Natila, the ancient one, would join them and continue her story of Artemis the forest nymph.

  “Rina,” called her mother as she walked her mount, stroking her neck lovingly. “I want to see you. Meet me at the stable. I have something important to tell you.”

  Czarinaea cringed, for her mother only called her Rina when the news would not be to her liking. The last time she called her Rina it was to tell her that the horse she had chosen was not the correct choice. It had been many hours of contemplation before she had remembered that a horse with four stockings was not a good mount, for the animal could be temperamental or bring ill luck. Czarinaea had taken many things into account, the animal’s height, the spread of the nostrils, and the dip in the back, but yes… she had missed the stockings.

  Alarmed by what her mother might have to say, she lingered at the hippo-dome as long as she reasonably could, only to find herself slammed into a wall of words as soon as she reached the stables.

  “A match with a great Scythian leader has been set for you,” Antilene said, throwing her shoulders back and taking a quick breath. “There will be much jealousy amongst the other girls, for he has chosen you. I am to announce it this very night, and want you to know that this is predestined, for though I have just had this news brought to me, the elders have whispered of just such a thing for a great long while now. You will be Queen to a legendary tribe. You…”

  Seeing her daughter grow pale, Antilene’s words froze on her lips.

  Czarinaea’s hands rose in a gesture resembling hopelessness as she reached for words, words that would allow her a life, words that would free her of the destiny her mother thought to be hers.

  “Emetchi,” she said softly, using the sacred term that meant great horsewoman. “I beg you do not do this! I want only to be a priestess, to study at the Temple at Ephesus. Mother, please reconsider,” she pleaded, holding her breath.

  Czarinaea waited, hoping …and then letting out her breath in a burst of energy she roared, “I will work harder! I will become the best, the very best rider! I will work each day with my bow. I will do anything.” Czarinaea paused, her shoulders slumping as the life she had planned disappeared with a sense of longing. A last plea left her lips, as her voice cracked with tension and her heart constricted. “I want not a mate, the thought frightens me! You have none. Why must I?”

  “This is not a punishment, but a great honor,” Antilene told her. “It is because you are the best horsewoman and the most beautiful that you have been chosen I am sure!”

  She had known that her daughter would balk at this arrangement, but she had also known that unless this bargain was sealed, a vast number of her clan would be killed. She had always been aware that Czarinaea was meant for great things since it had been predicted before her birth, and she had prayed to Goddess that she would do the right thing for her daughter. At this moment she was praying for patience, as she had no tolerance for disrespect.

  “He is paying for me! That is it!” Czarinaea stood tall and looked with resolve into her mother’s eyes, knowing it showed a lack of respect to look thus into the eyes of a warrior. Too late, she caught herself.

  “You challenge me!” frustrated her mother shouted. “You dare to challenge me!”

  Czarinaea stood tall for a moment longer, and then she bowed her head in surrender. “I will do as you bid,” she murmured. “But I will die a little each day, for you have reached into my heart and squeezed out its life. You have put me in a cage and you want me to feel honored?”

  Czarinaea waited to see if her mother would soften, but instead saw a determined look in her mother’s eye.

  “When I become esteemed,” she said with cold rage washing over her, “and doubt not that it will happen, they will bow to me and say, ‘I bring word of your mother’ and I will tell them I have no mother! She died mid-day in the month of the long sun and I mourn her not!”

  The hard, firm set of Czarinaea’s jaw hid the fact that her heart was aching. She knew her mother could have her punished, even killed for her disrespect. She was aware also, that there was nothing else her mother could have asked that would have received such a response. For as long as she could remember she had wanted to study at the temple to become a priestess. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she turned and walked toward the river. She knew her mother was calling after her to attend the meeting at which the news would be announced that she was to mate with… she then realized she did not even know his name. What would it matter? She was dead inside. He would get an empty shell, a body, a warrior, not a mate… never a mate.

  It came to her then that she would be expected to have children, and with the realization came the unbidden thought that if she had a daughter who treated her as she had just treated her mother…But no! She would never force a daughter of hers to mate, particularly as her own mother was doing now, to elicit payment in the form of gold or more horses. Yes, horses! Mother would stop at nothing to possess a valiant steed.

  Czarinaea’s stride slowed as she came to the end of the path. Dejectedly she sat down on a large stone. The water glistened in the afternoon sun, sending golden ripples of light toward the horizon. It was one of the most beautiful parts of the river, but today she did not notice. Instead, she found her eyes straying to the spot where she and Myrina had placed stones around the sides of a small inlet so it would not be muddy. They had worked hard stepping the stones to create a cascade of clean water which made a perfect bathing area. Suddenly, she felt a need to cleanse herself, to scrub herself of the deep feeling of betrayal that permeated every part of her being.

  Taking off her tunic and short skirt, she picked up one of the stones that they used to rub themselves
clean. When she gazed into the water, however, her reflection startled her. It had been some time since she noticed her looks. She remembered two summers ago when her kin Fiona had said they would get her into trouble. Now, she looked hard and long at the reflection of her light silky skin. Dark curls softly moved in the slight breeze, setting off her high cheek bones. Deep dark eyes with golden highlights that others always said sparkled when she laughed, were now looking back at her with grief.

  Her tears created ripples in the clear water. As the pond once more became a mirror a beautiful goddess appeared behind her, the same goddess that appeared in her dreams. She had told Czarinaea once that she was her spirit guide and she had helped her many times by showing her future events.

  “You have no business here!” Czarinaea cried. “You could have warned me. You could have helped me.” And then, through gritted teeth, “Go away, and don’t come back, ever!”

  Great sobbing sounds penetrated the air and the water beneath her feet. She had sent away the only one who came to comfort her and there was no one to hear the heartbreak as it echoed off the stones, and vibrated through the trees.

  Walking away from the bathing area, the look of a child was gone. In its place was a new found aloofness and poise that some spend a lifetime to acquire.

  The next year went by exceptionally fast. She was to wed Marmareus on the feast of Ma-Cybele, the great Goddess of life and she had yet to meet him, though he had seen her a year past and been so smitten that he had offered fifty horses for her. To be fair to her mother, Czarinaea knew that this marriage was to keep peace between their tribes; she wanted that, it was most important to her… but it came at such a high price.

  The wedding day was fast approaching. Czarinaea’s friend Lotzar gave her a big hug and headed for the door, knowing that the sisters needed to spend time together because they would soon be parting.

  Czarinaea broke the silence that invaded the room when the door closed behind her loving and boisterous friend.

  “He is a goat,” she said to Myrina, sounding worldly “and an old goat at that! I will be bored and repulsed by him,” Czarinaea said, giving an involuntary shudder.

  “He has become famous for his bravery and wealth,” Myrina pouted. “If I were fair like you and had the world offered to me I would not be so brazen and foolish to repeat such words aloud. I dream on each full moon that a warrior such as he comes for me. It is so romantic,” she sighed. “He has no other wives, your king, though it is his right. You must have made quite an impression!” declared Myrina, making a face at Czarinaea.

  “Watch that you do not get what you dream!” Czarinaea warned her. “I know for certain that ‘my king’ is no bargain. Mind you what Natila teaches comes from the Temple. She told us that when our dreams of the day become dreams of the night we cast a circle in which our dreams take on life and come back to us.” Czarinaea closed her eyes as if she was trying to remember something.

  “I have an idea,” she cried. “I shall cast a circle and bring a lover to me. He will worship me and bow at my feet. He will change my life so that I will be free, but I will have a choice and I will choose the Temple. He will ne’re love again and he will die for he cannot have me.” Czarinaea turned, beginning to cast her sacred circle.

  “Oh no!” said her sister in horror. “Natila warns us against wishes such as that. You heard only half of what she said. She has been clear that if we wish harshness on others, so comes it back. My ears tell me that you are willing to give one misery for another. But my heart tells me you must recant those thoughts and give over your service as warrior and mate to Marmareus.”

  “I give over my shield unto his battles,” Czarinaea grumbled, “I have been trained well. It is not within me to give my heart to him. If it were my way, all men would be taking care of the house duties and the children. They will never match the Hippodules in battle, for females are born to horses the way a man could never be.”

  She stood up to go. “Come,” she said. “It is time to see the garment I will wear in the ceremony. Someone needs to be excited, this way you can get more seeding for your dreams. I will tell you thus,” she added, tossing her head, “I have seen you riding a magnificent mount by the side of a king. So wish not for a man like mine. Wish instead for one who is gentle and kind.”

  “You have had a vision!” squealed Myrina, overjoyed that her sister could have envisioned something about her that was so grand.

  Czarinaea pointed to her forehead in between the eyes. “Three nights past I saw it clear. Besides, you know that I have had numerous visions. Most seem to happen in my dreams now, particularly since I told my spirit guide to never visit me again.”

  “You didn’t!” Myrina exclaimed. “Why would you do that?” And then, seeing Czarinaea’s frozen stare she said instead, “Your visions have helped many of the girls make the right decisions regarding their futures. Oh Rin, I am so sorry that you are leaving. I do know it is hard to see the happy fates of others when you are so miserable.”

  “Yes, I have always asked that the goddess give me visions to help the women of our clan know their purpose. Though, when I ask for my purpose, I am told to await my destiny!” Czarinaea’s eyes crinkled at the corners as she pondered this seeming unfairness.

  “I know how upset you are and I know that you didn’t mean to wish harm. Please take it back so that I won’t worry about you,” Myrina pleaded.

  “It is too late; it was a night dream. You reminded me when you spoke of yours. Now that I have put it to words in the day, it will come full circle. It has already begun. Pray to Goddess Cybele to light my way.” Head held high she walked proudly toward the door.

  “I have changed my mind, you go look at the dress. I am going to my arena,” she said. “I need to be alone.”

  “Rin, do you ever go to the waterfall in the forest? You know, where you first saw the beautiful goddess?”

  “No, I never go there anymore! What good is learning about magical things from my spirit guide if I cannot go to the temple? I will not need magic with my husband, but I am sure I will need a strong stomach!”

  Calm, quiet and poised, Czarinaea sat at the window overlooking the harshly cut road winding through the misty marshland, watching as the great Scythian tribe rode into their encampment.

  “Rin, you must find the gift I have hidden,” Myrina said with a broad smile. “It is bad luck if you do not find it before the wedding today, therefore you know I have not hidden it well.”

  Czarinaea glanced fondly at her sister knowing that she might never see her again. As she looked within her eyes she saw an in-dwelling truth residing there. She thought her beautiful, and kind. She was, Czarinaea knew, a feeler, a lover, and a dreamer, not fit for the valor that was expected from all in their clan. Myrina wished only be a wife and dreamt of the marriage bed as something precious. Well… it might be for her, after all in her visions Czarinaea had seen her sister riding in a precession, proudly looking at a man who seemed to be a king…

  “Do not make excuses,” Myrina said, interrupting her reverie impatiently, “for you are not busy. You’ve done nothing but sit at that window and gaze. What is it you seek?”

  “Perhaps I seek the man who will change my destiny,” Czarinaea told her. “I speak not of my husband-to-be, as you well know. The one I seek will be young and handsome and have passion coursing through his veins.”

  “How do you know this is not the case put before you? You have never met Marmareus and do not know his age.”

  “Because I have had a vision and I know that when I meet this man, I will be wed to another,” startled from her poise, as the powerful vision invaded her consciousness again, Czarinaea declared, “Oh! He is in a battle against us,” she muttered. “He is not one of my husband’s warriors.”

  With slow purpose in her movement, Czarinaea rose from the window-seat, her voice desolate of emotion and said, “There is no use waiting to catch a glimpse of him for twill not be today I catch his eye.”
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br />   Myrina, shrugging dejectedly, went to the hiding place under the matting on her bed.

  “Here,” Myrina said sadly, holding up a small carved horse hanging on a thin piece of hemp. “Let me put it around your neck. Perhaps it will protect you.” But even as she said the words, Myrina wondered if anything could protect Czarinaea from her anger and her disappointment in life.

  Lotzar poked her head around the door and told them the ceremony was beginning. Czarinaea’s robe was a light coffee color and around her slim waist she wore her golden Amazon girdle which, like an un-scalable wall, represented her virgin status as a warrior.

  The ceremony took place under a laurel oak. And when she met her bridegroom, nothing about Marmareus’s bulk, long unkempt hair and beard startled her, nor did his gruff unctuous personality and grating voice. Endless nights of distressing visions had prepared her for his crusty manner. Observing the scars above his eyebrows, she was sure they were well deserved.

  When Mareus, the head councilman of the abhorrent man standing beside her, came forward with knife drawn, Czarinaea and Marmareus put forth their hands. Mareus lightly ran his sharp knife over their palms until their blood flowed freely. He then held their hands, pressed together above their heads for all to see, indicating that the marriage was now official. It was the custom to remove the girdle at this part of the ceremony, as this bespoke honor and obedience to the new mate.

  Her hands visibly trembling, Czarinaea removed the belt and handed it to her mother who raised it high, sealing her daughter’s fate. The crowd cheered, and music came out of nowhere while their guests danced and waved their hats in the air, Czarinaea, seeking silence, climbed the oak tree and watched from her perch as if to distance herself from the inevitable.

  As a bride of only one day, she vowed to count the nights that she did not have to pay her wifely duties as rainbows in an otherwise dark dismal sky. Those nights would be something to look forward to, just as had the reprieve she enjoyed last night. Neither the bride nor the groom was in good humor after the long celebration following the marriage. He blessedly had passed out, and Czarinaea, desperate to be alone and having had a bit too much mead, stumbled through the woods and ended up spending her night sitting under a large oak, staring at the stars wishing she could will herself to become one with them.